


Sparky

by cosette141



Category: Leverage
Genre: Eliot - Freeform, Eliot/Parker friendship - Freeform, Gen, Nickname, Sparky - Freeform, leverage - Freeform, parker - Freeform, sibling-like relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 13:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosette141/pseuds/cosette141
Summary: Parker gave Eliot the nickname "Sparky" a long time ago. And tonight he finally learns why. Oneshot





	Sparky

"Nate… there's gotta be  _something_  I can do on this one…"

Nate held up a hand, stopping Eliot's words instantly. He was halfway out of his own apartment, only stopped because Eliot had followed him to the door. "No," said Nate firmly. "This is an easy job, Eliot. No need for a hitter." Nate nodded his head to his couch, where blankets lay piled up on the cushions over a sleeping form. "Or a thief."

Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell me again why I can't just  _go home_ , then?" He jabbed a thumb back at the sleeping thief. "Why am I on babysitting duty?!"

"Because she's sick," said Nate slowly, as if it were obvious. "You're going to take care of her."

Eliot could think of several dozen things he'd rather be doing. "I was sick a few months ago, no one took care of me!"

"That's because you're a loner and you don't let anyone in."

Eliot growled, but before he could say anything else, Nate was gone and down the hall. Eliot shut the door and pulled himself back into the apartment, trying to drown out the cartoons still playing on one of the several monitors in front of the couch. He walked himself straight to the fridge for a beer before he remembered that Nate was sober now. He growled again and slammed the door shut.

"Sparky?"

Eliot took a long breath before looking over at the couch. Parker was propped up on one elbow, looking over at him over the back of the couch. She did look pale, he noted. Pale, and shaking. It was taking an awful lot of effort to hold herself up to look at him. Eliot sighed.

He approached the back of the couch and asked, "Do you need somethin', darlin?"

She let herself fall back to the pillow. She pointed at something in front of her, and Eliot followed her gaze. The remote to the TV sat on the coffee table a few feet away. Hardison had turned on this cartoon before he left and must have left the remote out of her reach by accident.

Without a word, Eliot retrieved the remote and handed it to her. The blond thief smiled at him. She held the remote to her chest but didn't change the channel. Eliot watched her for a moment, but she just held it. No change in volume, nor any kind of setting. She just held it.

Eliot shook his head to himself. There was something wrong with her.

Feeling hungry, he made his way back to the kitchen intent on making whatever he found suitable in Nate's fridge, and maybe some soup for Parker. He may not be thrilled with the job of  _babysitter_  but… There was no way he was letting her eat fortune cookies for dinner.

He was halfway through cooking a rather remarkably-smelling chicken soup when Parker propped herself back up to look at him. He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to speak. But she just pointed back to the coffee table.

Where the remote was lying, in the same spot as the last time.

Eliot stared at it for half a second, bewildered. He knew he'd just gotten that for her. But why would she have put it back on the table..? And she was in clear view of him; he didn't see her move to put it there. But… she  _was_  Parker. She was still the only person who was able to successfully sneak up on him.

Something he was still unnerved about.

Confused and just a little irritated, Eliot put down his cooking utensils and stalked back over to the couch. He walked around it and picked up the remote. "Parker," he said, forcing himself to be calm. "I just gave this to you. Why did you put it back here?"

"Because."

She held Eliot's gaze for a moment, and he wrestled with his emotions. Shoving his irritation down as far as he could, Eliot forced a smile onto his face. He carefully handed the remote back to Parker, picking up her hand and closing her fingers gently around the device. "Here," he said. "Now hold onto this."

Parker grinned widely, and looked up at him. "Thanks, Sparky."

Eliot held in a growl at the nickname. She'd started calling him that since the first job they worked. And still, he had no idea what compelled her to do so. Again, she was the only exception for someone giving him such a pet name.

He backed away slowly, keeping his eyes on her, and made his way back to the kitchen. She watched him as he did. Again, she didn't bother to change the channel or volume.

Eliot rubbed his temple at the growing headache and turned to stir the soup. When he looked back over to Parker, his irritation flooded back altogether.

The remote was not on the coffee table.

It was on the floor, even further out of her reach, right in front of the TV.

"Sparky!"

"Parker!" growled Eliot, walking all the way to the TV, grabbing the remote and looking incredulously at her. "What the hell are you doing?! I've given this to you a million times!"

"That's what you do," she said simply, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Eliot gave her a puzzled look, which mingled with the already present irritation and only created a grimace. "What?"

"That's what you  _do_ , Sparky!" she said with a giggle.

Eliot rubbed a hand over his face. "That's it-why the hell do you call me that?"

Parker's eyebrows kneaded, as if she was confused as to why he had to ask. "Uh, because you're a retriever."

His worst fears were realized. In monotone, he demanded, "You named me after a dog."

Parker shrugged. "You told me you were a retriever," she said simply. She pointed to the remote. "I wanted to test it."

"I told you…" Eliot trailed off, in complete, utter confusion. Until suddenly all her words made sense. "Because I'm a  _retrieval specialist_?!" he asked incredulously. He looked from her to the remote in his hand and back. The night replayed in his mind.

"You were a good boy," she said with another giggle.

Another growl rose in his chest and Eliot gripped the remote hard enough he thought he'd shatter it. "Parker-"

Parker just closed her eyes. "That's not the only reason I call you Sparky, you know." She nestled her head into her pillow and mumbled into the material. "Doggies are people's best friends. And you're mine."

The anger dissipated in Eliot's chest and he loosened his hold on the remote. He let a small smile slip across his face, and carefully approached the sleeping thief. He gently pulled the blanket up to her chin and, as an afterthought, left the remote on the pillow next to her head.

He left to finish cooking the soup, and only looked up once. The remote, he noticed, was once again sitting on the coffee table. Without being asked, he retrieved it for her and put it on the pillow by her head again.

And this time, he didn't mind.


End file.
